


Well Done

by TessAlyn



Category: Midsomer Murders - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Discipline, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Male Slash, Porn with Feelings, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 14:40:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19814401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TessAlyn/pseuds/TessAlyn
Summary: Ben gave him an exaggerated little pout, which was more endearing than it had any right to be, then turned and began walking back to the counter. Oh, Christ. He was completely bare beneath it— the apron strings were tied in a neat little bow just above his ass, like a bloody Christmas gift. John swallowed again, harder this time. Why had he let him walk away? Why?





	Well Done

**Author's Note:**

> This all started because someone posted a photo of Jason Hughes wearing an apron on our Discord server. And things kind of escalated from there. This is my first time writing for this fandom, so I hope you enjoy!

John came downstairs at a quarter to seven, yawning hugely. He and Ben had dozed off almost immediately after making love last night, but it had been quite late, and he’d only managed a few hours’ sleep. He was therefore quite surprised to find Ben already clattering around in the kitchen, and even more surprised to see what he was wearing.

Or rather, not wearing.

“You’re up early,” he said, pausing in the doorway and folding his arms.

Ben glanced up from the bowl of eggs he’d been whisking and flashed him one of those charming, boyish grins that John found so irresistible. “Morning, sir. I mean—” He blushed a little. “John. Sorry. Still getting used to that.”

“So am I.” John looked him up and down, eyebrows raised. “Is that my apron?”

“It is.” Ben’s grin widened. “I think it rather suits me, don’t you?”

He held out his arms, the whisk still in his hand. The apron was tied neatly around him, bright red cloth contrasting nicely with his pale skin. He was facing John directly, so it was impossible to tell if he was wearing anything else, but John was willing to bet good money that he was stark naked underneath.

“Hard to say, really.” John felt a smile tug at his own mouth. “Come here and let’s have a look at you.”

Ben set the whisk down on the counter and walked towards him, the color in his cheeks rapidly starting to match the apron. He stopped directly in front of John, and John could feel his own face warming at the sight. Ben was tall and gangly, but he had muscle underneath that wiry frame, and the skimpy piece of cloth hanging round his neck was doing nothing to hide it.

“See anything you like?” Ben murmured.

John swallowed. “I see everything I like,” he said, and pulled Ben close.

Ben’s mouth was lovely, his lips soft and full, his tongue warm and wet and eager. His morning stubble scratched against John’s chin, and he let out a hum of pleasure as John’s hands moved up his back and through his hair. Ben’s own hands were fumbling at the sash of John’s robe, trying clumsily to untie it while still focusing on the kiss. After a few moments, John stopped him.

“Not so fast,” he said with a crooked smile. “I want my eggs first.”

Ben raised his eyebrows and let out a huffy laugh. “You’re quite the tease, Barnaby. Do you know that?”

“You’re one to talk,” John said, nodding down at the apron. “Go on. Don’t keep me waiting.”

Ben gave him an exaggerated little pout, which was more endearing than it had any right to be, then turned and began walking back to the counter. Oh, Christ. He  _ was  _ completely bare beneath it— the apron strings were tied in a neat little bow just above his ass, like a bloody Christmas gift. John swallowed again, harder this time. Why had he let him walk away?  _ Why _ ?

Ben practically sashayed across the kitchen floor, clearly enjoying the fact that John was watching him. “Where do you keep your pots and pans?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Bottom drawer,” John said faintly.

Ben stopped in front of the cabinet, and then slowly— oh so deliberately— bent over, spreading his legs and arching his hips up. John’s mouth went dry. He could see Ben’s long, thick cock hanging down between his legs, his balls pulled tight against the shaft, his gorgeous ass round and smooth and perfect. By the time Ben straightened up again, John’s own cock was rapidly starting to swell.

“Have a seat, sir,” Ben said, turning around and grinning at him. “I’ll have these done in a jiffy.”

John didn’t trust himself to speak. He lowered himself into a chair at the table and watched as Ben turned on the stove and tossed some butter into the pan.

“How do you like your eggs, sir?” he asked after a moment. He was putting a touch more emphasis on the word  _ sir _ , John noted, making it clear he was using it purposefully rather than accidentally. So he wanted to play that kind of game, did he? John could work with that.

“I like them well done,” John said, shifting in his chair and spreading his legs so Ben could see the shape of his hard-on through his robe. “And piping hot.”

Ben gave him another of those cheeky grins. “Yes, sir. Coming right up.” He poured the beaten eggs into the pan, took a rubber spatula from its hook on the wall, and began stirring the eggs gently.

It only took a few minutes, but they felt like the longest minutes of John’s life. Finally, Ben snapped off the burner, took the pan off the heat, and spooned the eggs onto a plate.

“Wait,” John said. An idea had just come to mind, one he was fairly certain Ben would be receptive to. “Bring that spatula with you.”

Ben’s head snapped up, and for a moment John was afraid he’d read him wrong. Then a slow, almost shy smile spread over Ben’s face.

“Yes, sir,” he said, and walked over to the table. He set the eggs down in front of John, then tentatively held out the spatula. 

“Set it down,” John told him. “And come here.” He patted his knee. “I want a closer look at that ass.”

Ben blushed beautifully and did as he was told. He set the spatula on the table next to the eggs, then stepped in front of John and turned around.

“Very nice,” John murmured, cupping a buttock in his hand and giving it a firm squeeze. Ben quivered at the touch and John saw front of the apron beginning to tent upwards. He smiled, slid his hands around Ben’s waist, and pulled him into his lap. Ben gasped in surprise.

“Do you feel that?” John whispered, rubbing his erect cock against the younger man’s ass. “Do you feel what you’ve done to me?”

“Yes, sir,” Ben breathed. “I’ve been quite naughty, haven’t I?”

“Yes, you have.” John ground his hips against Ben’s, the delicious friction sending jolts of pleasure through his groin. “And you know what happens to naughty boys, don’t you?” He leaned forward so his mouth was nearly touching Ben’s ear. “They get punished.”

Ben let out a soft, quavering sigh. “Yes, sir.”

John held him a moment more, then let go. “Bend over,” he ordered. “Across my lap.”

Ben obeyed instantly, nearly tripping over his own feet in his eagerness. He stretched out over John’s lap, tilting his hips, palms placed flat against the floor for balance. John could feel Ben’s erection pressing against his thigh, and bit back a moan as he imagined Ben kneeling down and sucking him off right here. Plenty of time for that later, he told himself. Right now, Ben needed some disciplining.

He picked up the spatula from the table and ran the edge of it lightly along Ben’s right buttock. Ben inhaled sharply, quivering at the touch.

“Have you been spanked before, Jones?” John asked softly.

“N-no, sir,” Ben stuttered.

“I’ll be gentle, then,” John said, cupping Ben’s chin in his other hand and tilting his head up just a bit. “But I still want to hear you moan. Every time I give you a smack, you give me a nice, loud moan. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, sir,” Ben said, shifting his hips slightly.

“Good,” John said, and brought the spatula down on Ben’s ass with a light slap. Ben jumped and let out a soft moan— more of a whimper, really. John smacked him again, a little harder. Ben’s mouth opened in a gasp, and he wriggled slightly on John’s lap, arching his ass higher into the air.

“Do you like that, darling?” John inquired, gently tilting Ben’s head towards him.

“Yes, sir,” Ben gasped. His eyes were starting to glaze over, just a bit, and he was biting his lip in the most tantalizing way.

“Do you need more?”

“Yes, please.” 

John gave him three more slaps in quick succession, and Ben let out his first real moan, deep and hoarse, his breath quickening. He was rock hard against John’s thigh, and even through two layers of cloth John could feel a damp spot forming. He must be leaking all over the place, John thought—  _ he  _ certainly was.

“That’s a good boy,” he said, and spanked him again, watching his lover’s face closely for any signs of discomfort or indications that he wanted to stop. He saw none— Ben’s dark eyes were locked on his, filled with nothing but eager lust.

“Harder, sir,” he gasped. “Please. I’ve been so bad.”

John was happy to oblige. He took a firmer grip on the spatula and brought it down hard, hard enough to leave a faint mark across Ben’s tender skin. He did it again, and again. Ben let out moan after moan, each one louder than the last, his shoulder muscles trembling with the effort of remaining balanced across John’s lap.

Finally, after Ben’s backside was thoroughly covered in red and white stripes, after his moans and whimpers had reached a fever pitch and his hips were bucking up and down with every smack, John decided he’d had enough. He set the spatula back down on the table, and rubbed Ben’s back soothingly.

“That’s enough for one day,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to Ben’s hair. “I think you’ve earned a reward after all that, don’t you?”

“Oh God,” Ben whimpered. “Yes, sir,  _ please _ .”

John helped him to his feet, then gently untied the apron strings and lifted the garment over Ben’s head. Then he just stood there for a moment, admiring the sight.

As John had discovered the first night they made love, Ben was absolutely  _ gorgeous  _ naked— tall and slender, with broad shoulders and muscular arms— but he somehow looked even more gorgeous now. His skin was flushed red and glistening with sweat, his thick cock standing up against his stomach, throbbing slightly, a bead of precome gathering at the tip. So utterly vulnerable, so helplessly aroused.

John slid one arm around Ben’s waist, pulling him close, and covered his mouth with a kiss. Ben returned it hungrily, his tongue flicking in and out between John’s lips, little whimpers still bubbling up from his throat. With his other hand John reached down and began stroking Ben’s cock, earning a long, shivery sigh from his lover.

They stayed like that for a while, kissing deeply, John sliding his hand up and down Ben’s length, enjoying the sounds he made. His own cock was aching for release, but he ignored it, keeping himself focused entirely on Ben— beautiful, lovely Ben who was moaning into his mouth, who was eagerly thrusting into his hand, his dick hot and hard and pulsing, just for him, all for him.

“Oh, fuck,” Ben gasped suddenly, breaking away from John’s mouth. “I’m going to come.”

John sank swiftly to his knees. “Then come, darling,” he whispered. “I want to taste you.” And he engulfed Ben’s lovely, hot cock in his mouth.

“Oh  _ God _ , John,” Ben nearly wailed, gripping a fistful of John’s hair and pulling him further onto his shaft. John opened his mouth wider, taking Ben’s entire length into his throat, keeping his eyes fixed on the man above him, watching as his head snapped back and his mouth opened in a silent O. Then Ben’s hips jerked forward and John’s mouth suddenly began filling with the warm, smooth taste of his come, salty and sweet and oh so satisfying. He moaned with pleasure, then reached up and began milking Ben with his hand, drawing out every last drop. Then he swallowed it all, in one large delicious gulp, and gave Ben’s cock a slow, loving lick as he eased off.

“Holy fuck.” Ben sank to his knees so he was eye-level with John. “That was amazing.”

“Glad to hear it,” John said, a little breathlessly. His own knees were starting to ache from the hard floor, and he made to get up, but Ben stopped him.

“I think it’s your turn now, sir,” he said, with a ghost of his former grin. “Lie back.”

“What, on the floor?”

Ben nodded and gave him a little push. John hesitated, then lowered himself to the floor and lay on his back with his legs splayed out, feeling a little ridiculous in his ratty old bathrobe. Ben stretched out alongside him and began running his hand slowly down John’s body until he reached the loose knot of the robe’s sash. He smiled and began untying it slowly, keeping eye contact with John the entire time, and John felt his cock twitch. God, he was hard. He couldn’t remember  _ ever  _ having been so hard, so tightly wound with excitement, so full of aching need. He was going to come as soon as Ben touched him, that was certain.

Ben folded back the robe, exposing John’s cock to the cool air, and John clenched his teeth, fighting the overwhelming urge to grab hold of himself and begin jerking off. He made himself wait, watching as Ben positioned himself between John’s legs, gazing at the cock in front of him with a ravenous expression.

“It looks so good,” he murmured, placing his hands on John’s thighs. “So big and hard. I can’t wait to taste it.”

John bit back a whimper. He should have known that Ben would give as good as he got. He was going to draw this out, tease him as much as John had teased him.

Ben leaned forward and began running the tip of his tongue along John’s cock, his touch agonizingly light, almost feathery. His hands were gentle, too— stroking John’s thighs, rubbing them in slow circles with his thumbs. John leaned his head back as Ben continued licking his shaft, working his way down until he reached the root, and then he gasped as Ben’s warm, wet tongue suddenly started caressing his balls.

“Oh, that’s lovely,” John breathed. “Just like that. Don’t stop.”

Ben gave a little hum of satisfaction and drew one of John’s testicles into his mouth, sucking on it, his tongue stroking the sensitive skin. Heat surged up in John’s groin and he squeezed his eyes shut, overwhelmed with pleasure. It was too good, too  _ good _ , how was it possible to feel this good and not explode into a million pieces?

“Oh, God,” he groaned. “Ben, please— I need—”

“What, love?” Ben asked, pausing in his ministrations to look up at him. “What do you need?”

“I—” John’s mind was a blur of sensation and lust. “I— I need to come, Ben. I need you to suck me off. Please.”

Ben grinned at him. “Of course, sir. All you had to do was ask.” And before John could offer a retort, Ben raised his head slightly and swallowed him all the way down to the root.

John let out a startled cry and bucked his hips up. Ben’s mouth was soft and wet and warm, providing just the right mix of friction and pressure. Within seconds he was at the brink, and a few more gentle thrusts between Ben’s lips was enough to send him over the edge. His whole body started to shake, his head jerked forward, and deep moans began tearing out of his throat as he spurted into Ben’s mouth.

John’s orgasm seemed to go on forever— he couldn’t remember the last time he’d come so hard. When the shockwaves finally subsided, he simply lay there for a few moments, staring blankly at the ceiling, too dazed to speak.

Ben’s gentle touch on his chest brought him back to earth. “You all right?” Ben murmured, his forehead wrinkling up with concern.

“Yes,” John said faintly. “Yes, I’m fine. My legs seemed to have stopped working, but I’m sure that’s only temporary.”

Ben laughed. “Fucked the strength right out of you, did I?”

“You did indeed.” John reached up and pulled Ben down for a kiss. “You are calling in sick,” he announced after they broke apart.

“Am I?” Ben said, raising his eyebrows.

“Yes. There’s a nasty cold going ’round the district, and you’ve caught a particularly bad case of it.”

“I see,” Ben said, smirking a little. “Guess I’d better get into bed, then.”

“Yes, you should,” John said. The feeling was starting to come back in his legs, and after a moment he sat up, then let Ben help him to his feet. “As a matter of fact, I think I’m coming down with something similar.”

“What a shame.”

“It is, rather.” John shrugged, a smile tugging at his mouth. “Good thing we aren’t working a case at the moment.” He slipped his arms around Ben’s waist and planted another soft kiss on his lips.

“You know something?” Ben said after a pause.

“What?”

“We completely forgot about the eggs.”

John chuckled. “That’s all right. I’ll make some more. God knows you’ve earned it.” He kissed Ben again and gave him a little nudge towards the staircase. “Now go upstairs and get in bed.”

“Fine,” Ben said. “But on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

Ben flashed him a twisted little grin. “When you come upstairs, I expect to see  _ you  _ in that apron.”


End file.
